


Just Another Sunday Dinner

by bluebells



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelcest, Angst, Community: comment_fic, Food Kink, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every Sunday they end up in the same place, the same way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Sunday Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at the [comment_fic community](http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/98352.html?thread=21584944#t21584944) and later [my own journal](http://users.livejournal.com/_bluebells/20294.html) for [](http://ryuutchi.livejournal.com/profile)[**ryuutchi**](http://ryuutchi.livejournal.com/) in [](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/)**comment_fic**.

Lucifer never eats when he joins them to dine.

His brothers have grown accustomed to Lucifer merely swilling a glass of wine while he watches them eat. They've never witnessed him touch a morsel of food. He claims it's for their benefit that he abstains from poisoning the breaking of bread.

It's been so long they forget if he's only making excuses.

Michael pretends not to notice when Lucifer inevitably knocks his ankle under the table. Michael will balance his silver cutlery and continue cutting his meal into fine and manageable pieces. He won't look up and Lucifer will continue nudging.

Gabriel eats with his hands if he can help it. He'll tear the meat from the bone and rip portions of bread with his teeth; it's the fastest and most indulgent way to celebrate their blessing, he says.

Lucifer knows it's because Gabriel later enjoys smearing trails of chocolate or syrup under Michael's eyes, down his nose, over his cheekbones, jaw or his lips. Gabriel's hands roam anywhere he can reach where Michael doesn't stop him.

Michael _will_ turn on him with a familiar, droll stare, but he never scolds, never tells Gabriel to pull his hands back, as though it would be beneath him to even address the point he's being face-painted with dessert. Because it always ends the same way.

Gabriel exploits Michael's pride and Lucifer is an opportunist.

On some nights Michael's gaze bears less steel and Gabriel lives for the dinners when his hands are allowed to linger. Those are the nights when Michael might turn his face into Gabriel's hand, power curling and licking over his fingers before his lips part, glazed with Gabriel's treatment and he sucks them in, eyes sliding shut with a heady breath.

Lucifer never stays on his side of the table for long during dessert.

He always chooses to close in on Michael from behind, sliding between him and the chair, he'll bend Michael forward almost into Gabriel's lap. Gabriel follows his fingers, tasting Michael slick, hot and new every Sunday, and if he's not careful he betrays his greed, clearing the trails from Michael's skin with his smile, his tongue and his teeth.

But Lucifer always holds on. It's Lucifer's hands on Michael's thighs, pulling him down and open as Gabriel drinks down his noises, soft, grunted or shuttered when Lucifer finally moves.

Gabriel loves this part of Michael, when he can't quite focus and he shakes with every fall, fingers tensing and relaxing in the dip behind Gabriel's neck. In his daze, Michael might drag Gabriel down over his hips, hands heavy and fluid, and sometimes Lucifer gives Gabriel a warning look when he goes laughing.

Because Michael and Lucifer are so serious when they're like this, as though the most they can manage is to breathe and not shudder apart through the next thrust. Not a smile, not a word they exchange, but Gabriel lives to defy convention and it's a new challenge to see how dark Lucifer's eyes can become feeling Michael tense and tremble around him at the filthy things Gabriel murmurs against his mouth.

Lucifer wraps himself so tightly around Michael, bruising kisses to his throat, his arm is a vice at Michael's waist as though he'll never get close enough and Gabriel believes it.

Gabriel doesn't fail to notice Michael tangling his fingers with those at his waist when Lucifer tenses and the rhythm falls apart. Gabriel allows Lucifer's free hand to hold him firm above when Michael slides out of their kiss, resting on Lucifer's shoulder. But he hates how it tugs in his chest when Michael turns, seeking Lucifer, who presses his lips behind his ear and pulls Gabriel down to kiss Michael instead.

There are things in that kiss not meant for him (promise, broken, _please_ ), but every time it's the same.

It's just another Sunday dinner.


End file.
